


Best

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Merpeople, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond checks on his latest patient.





	Best

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He picks his way down into the valley, following the sound of the rushing river and the lilting music that dances with it, not quite like anything Elrond’s ever heard before. The minstrels of Imladris are renowned for their talent, but this is something _new_ , both alien and ethereal, that tugs him ever closer. He takes the winding path between hanging willows to reach the bubbling shore, where water licks between the rocks and claws towards the rich earth. Perched only just out of the fray is the lithe figure of an elf, bare as birth, save for the blue-green scales that fleck his skin around his hips. They twist lower, disappearing back into the water, but Elrond knows well the graceful fin that hides beneath the surface. Catching the stray glimpse of its shimmer, he can’t help but wonder if a _Maia_ ’s wandered into his life. 

When the creature spots Elrond, his delicate cheeks stain a subtle pink, and his look is too prettily sheepish for one with the powers of gods. His song dies on his lips, which would sadden Elrond, if not for the gorgeous smile that replaces it. Lindir brushes his long hair over one slender shoulder and begins to pleat his fingers through it, looking not at all unlike a young elf that’s just risen from the bath. 

He dips his head in greeting, endless eyes flickering closed before opening wide again, and Elrond can see the entire depth of the sea inside them. Elrond stops just before him and speaks first, admitting, “I am pleased to still find you here, Lindir.”

Lindir’s smile grows like a flower in spring, though he averts his eyes and murmurs chastely, “I hoped I had not overstayed my welcome.”

“You could not,” Elrond reminds him: “the rivers are yours to enjoy.”

Lindir bites his bottom lip, working it for a moment as his hands comb the long, chocolate-coloured locks that sweep over his shoulder. Then he quietly answers, “This river is yours, my lord, and I would not swim in it without your permission.”

Elrond can’t help a fond sigh. He’d just as soon say that the land itself is hardly _his_ , and his rule extends only to his own people, but there’s something so very _sweet_ about the way Lindir’s given fealty to him so easily, and he doesn’t have the heart to spurn it. So he promises instead, “You have my blessing, now and always, to use all these lands as you may.”

Lindir looks up at Elrond through long lashes, and that look alone has Elrond’s heart beating twice as fast. He finds himself drawn forward a final step, and he settles down to sit by Lindir amidst the rocks, washed smooth from other seasons. Lindir’s tail flicks happily, the glistening webbing at the end splashing up before sinking down again. It draws Elrond’s eye, and he asks, “How has your healing gone?”

“Wondrous,” Lindir breathes, and there he pauses to brace himself against the shore, lifting his tail up properly, and Elrond is gifted the opportunity to examine it in all it’s glory: long and lustrous, shimmering like many crystals, with tendrils of delicate silk, translucent and ever-changing, first purple in the remnants of water, then golden in the open sun. Elrond’s breath catches just to look at it. When Elrond first found Lindir, only a few days past, that tail was ragged and dull, torn at the ends on the arrow of an orc, and it gave Elrond such _sorrow_ to see. But he healed it the best he could, and Lindir must have some power of his own, for it now looks utterly unblemished. 

He tells Elrond, “I am very grateful.” His head tilts, and he hums, “I only wish that I could repay you for your kindness.”

“Your music has repaid me,” Elrond counters, recalling both the melancholy tune that Lindir whispered as Elrond first healed him and the new delight that he spun this morning. Elrond never expects anything in return for his services, but simply knowing Lindir has proved worth more than he thinks he could ever provide. 

Yet Lindir claps his hands and chirps happily, “Then I will sing for you, my lord. Any time that you should wish.”

“Oh?” A soft chuckle bubbles out of Elrond’s throat. He would insist it hardly necessary, but Lindir already looks far too eager to please, and Elrond finds himself musing instead, “‘Any time’ is rather a long time.”

“As long as you will have me,” Lindir insists. He looks about to say more, but then he hesitates a moment, eyes traveling back to the water, swept along with the busy tide. With his gaze still lost, he murmurs, “In truth, I... was only exploring the rivers to find where my heart belongs...” Pausing anew, he turns back to Elrond, where he gently finishes, “And I believe that I have found it.”

Touched beyond words, Elrond replies, “I am honoured.” He only hopes that he can be worthy of the admiration in Lindir’s eyes. In a strange way, he feels equally enamoured.

The moment is suddenly heavy, thick, and all Elrond can see is Lindir’s breathtaking beauty, the redness of his lips and the flush across his cheeks. Just before that loveliness swallows him whole, he asks, “Will you sing for me now?” to lighten the mood.

Smiling radiant and bright, Lindir nods and does.


End file.
